


The Ashes of a Diamond

by nishinoya_is_my_sexuality



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst and Humor, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Character Study, Eventual Happy Ending, Fantasy, Heaven & Hell, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, It's not entirely depressing don't worry, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Physical Abuse, Slow Burn, Torture, self hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishinoya_is_my_sexuality/pseuds/nishinoya_is_my_sexuality
Summary: If a diamond is broken into a million pieces, can it ever be fixed?--Wakatoshi Ushijima, an angel, had only ever wanted stability, something to lean on when everything else broke down.So why, then, did he find himself at a human bar indulging himself with disgusting mortal alcohol on Earth?Satori Tendou, a demon, had a job to torture souls broken to the point of no recovery.So why, then, did he find himself saving a wasted angel from sexual assault that the angel himself probably deserved anyways?
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Ushijima

**Author's Note:**

> The Ushiten Haikyuu angel and demon au nobody asked for :)  
> Inspired by this [art](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4f132cbda7b9e5a954039de210949f54/tumblr_p7zwipfEI91xr2vx8o1_400.png)!
> 
> This alternates between Ushijima and Tendou's pov
> 
> Note: PLEASE check the tags before reading. there aren't any graphic depictions, but they're still there. (Tendou and Ushijima are both 18.)
> 
> Updated every Wednesday, but I may have time to add more chapters between ♡ ～('▽^人)

The revolting smell of wood shavings mixed with a harsh, cloying scent of a ridiculous amount of fruit extracts mixed together hung almost in forebodingly around the room as Wakatoshi sank down into his seat, drowsily holding his shot and staring at the marbled countertop in front of him. A cacophony of muffled words and laughter buzzed around all degrees of him, and he felt the incessant urge to go back to Heaven. 

He despised this. He despised how alcohol made him feel. He didn’t even take that many shots of what the mortals called “whiskey”, but he already felt more and more groggy and fazed by the minute. He was slowly losing control of his concentration, and he knew that this was messing up with his strict levels of boundaries he forced himself never to cross.

And yet, he was rooted to where he was. It didn’t matter what happened. Nothing mattered anymore.

“Would you like another shot, sir?” A voice said in front of Wakatoshi right as he forced down his shot and cringed at the bitter taste. He looked up. It was the bartender again.

“Yes,” he choked out, bile coming up in his throat. He swallowed it down as the bartender smiled and poured another shot to him. “Thank you.” 

As he drowned the cup down and prepared himself for the persistent impulse to vomit, he felt eyes trail over him. He ignored them and tried his best to focus on the table, his head swirling from so much alcohol. 

“Why hello there, young man,” a new, low voice greeted beside him. 

Wakatoshi said nothing, his head still trained forward. 

What seemed to be a tall, well-built man slid next to him from the corner of his eye. The man scooted his chair a bit too close to Wakatoshi for his comfort. “You have eyes for that lovely bartender, don’t ya?” the stranger commented as he chugged down his glass of alcohol. 

Wakatoshi glanced at the bartender. She was a fair lady who had soft but observant hazel eyes. Her wavy brown hair rested gently on her shoulders and she wore an apron, but Wakatoshi could still see the distinct form of her curves. People would probably call her attractive, he supposed, but he couldn’t care less. 

“No,” Wakatoshi responded bluntly, still not turning to look at the stranger. “Sir,” he added out of politeness. He really didn’t want to converse with any mortal right now.

“Really?” He chortled. “All the men here do.”

Wakatoshi didn’t answer.

The stranger leaned closer to him, and he could smell the egregious smell of brandy in his breath. “So yer not into women, are you?”

“That’s not what I said,” he refuted, resisting the urge to back away from this confrontation. Humans were so disgusting. 

The stranger reached a hand to turn Wakatoshi’s face towards him. His hand was rough and calloused, and Wakatoshi flinched at the touch. “You look pretty good yourself,” the man commented, smiling. Wakatoshi noticed that he looked about in the late thirties, or maybe even early forties. He was very muscular, like he could break a walnut's shell by the mere touch, but all Wakatoshi could concentrate on was how repugnant he looked, with his baggy, red eyes and his crooked nose, like he had just gotten into a physical fight recently. “Very manly eyes,” the man continued. “Just the perfect shade of brown. And yer arms and thighs. I bet under all that clothing, they’re beef as fuck.”

Wakatoshi only stared at him, expressionless and moderately tipsy. 

The taller man leaned impossibly closer, his lips only a few centimeters away from Wakatoshi’s, but Wakatoshi didn’t flinch away. The edge of his slightly bruised mouth tipped up into a smirk, and he used his finger to trail the edges of Wakatoshi’s mouth as he moved his other hand to brush the middle of Wakatoshi’s shirt-covered abdomen all the way down, sending a shiver down Wakatoshi’s spine. 

Wakatoshi was losing his focus. And, therefore, his stability.

But he needed stability. 

He’d had reliability almost his entire life. Wakatoshi was born and raised in Heaven. It felt like a safe haven for him. Everything was predictable; there were no surprises. When he was younger, he was quietly sheltered by his loving parents, as any angel mother and father would do. Almost his entire life, he would stay in his archangel father’s room, passing a volleyball back and forth or reading. Sometimes, he would walk downstairs into the Grand Hall, a massive place about the size of two football stadiums. There, all the angels and heavenly spirits would eat and party together for several nights straight. Wakatoshi would never really like such social activities; he found the size of the room formidable and always stayed in the back, observing others. Other than these festivities, he’d almost never ventured outside. He knew that outside the palace where he lived, there would be sturdy gates that even the demons of Hell couldn’t surpass. Thus, he never really had a genuine friend, because he always thought that his parents who would accompany him from time to time were enough.

And they really were enough. That was his life. He was safe there. 

Until, when Wakatoshi was in the double digits of his age, his father called for a divorce, and the walls that surrounded his life metaphorically and physically were broken down. 

At that time, he had thought his life was broken into two, literally, because he never saw one of his favorite companions, his mother, ever again after that day. When night fell, he never slept, but kept his hands clasped in front of him and stared at a certain speck of dust on the ceiling above him. He wouldn’t move, his mind completely blank, expressionless, and ignored his father every time he tried to talk to him.

Wakatoshi wasn’t one prone to give up, however. Even if everything in his life came crashing down, at least he had his home in Heaven to lean on for support. He finally relented and tried to associate himself with his father again, but always kept his necessary distance. This time, however, he completely shut himself out from the world and wouldn’t even step outside the boundaries of his room to attend the yearly celebrations at the Grand Hall.

So why, then, did he find himself at a human bar indulging himself with disgusting mortal alcohol on Earth, many years later?

Whatever it was, he had long forgotten it after downing four shots of whiskey. He didn’t want to remember. What stability? He didn’t really care what happened now, although the stranger in front of him was becoming slightly irritating. 

The man shifted forward, breaking Wakatoshi from his thoughts. The stranger’s hand cradled Wakatoshi’s face and he pressed his slimy lips under Wakatoshi’s jaw and then against his cheek, whispering into his ear, “Hey, wanna come stay with me for the night? My apartment is upstairs.”

Wakatoshi was growing uncomfortable at the stranger’s very physical touches, but he forced these feelings down. “Why?”

The man stepped back and crossed his arms, an eerie smile dancing on his lips. “What d’ya mean ‘why’? To fuck, of course. It’ll just be one night, I promise.”

His expression didn’t change as his eyes continued studying him. “What does ‘to fuck’ mean?”

The stranger’s eyes lit up. “Oh, so yer a virgin? How delightful!” He pulled Wakatoshi onto his feet, who stumbled but caught his balance. “Here, I’ll teach you.” He forcibly dragged Wakatoshi through the crowd of the bar and out into the unwelcoming, cold night.

“Wait-” Wakatoshi called out, trying to wrench out of the stronger man’s grasp, to no avail. Sure, he hadn’t cared what happened to him earlier, but now… Something was wrong.

“Oh, for Lord’s sake, shut up,” the stranger snapped, which was an instant mood change. He was looking around, possibly for other mortals, before realizing that they were alone, hidden by the trees overlooking the parking lot. The loud music and drinking could be heard in the distance behind the closed doors of the bar. 

Then, without any other warning, the man grabbed Wakatoshi by his hair and shoved him against the wall. Wakatoshi tried to open his mouth to yell in pain, but the man shut him up by chomping down on his lips with the man's own and groping his butt. 

Wakatoshi stiffened at the touch. His mind was racing, filled with undecipherable swirling thoughts, but most of them emitted panic. 

The stranger moaned loudly and ground his waist against Wakatoshi, who immediately let out a muffled scream from the touch. “N-no!”

This was weird. And very uncomfortable. Wakatoshi could feel his length sting in pain as the man ground faster and opted to sink his teeth on Wakatoshi’s neck. 

“Wait, no-” he managed to get out before the stranger tore Wakatoshi’s pants down, and his limp dick was exposed to the cold air. “Agh!” The man hungrily leaned down and started licking all up and down Wakatoshi’s cock. 

The touch of man’s abhorrent thick tongue on his length sent a shock of heat all over his body, and he started yelling, trying to thrash about, but the man kept a firm hand over Wakatoshi, locking him in. “Shut the fuck up,” the man growled as he squeezed hard on Wakatoshi’s cock. “Nobody will see us.”

“Help!” Hollering, he tried kicking the man away from him, to no avail, and the stranger promptly shoved his entire cock down his mouth. 

Wakatoshi screamed from the touch, a deep yell so loud it resonated throughout the cool air.

“Hey!” A new voice cut through the air like a sharp dagger in battle. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you bastard?”

The stranger released Wakatoshi’s cock to turn towards the new person. Wakatoshi didn’t even have to look to know who it was; he could tell simply by the presence. And the vile scent they gave off.

A demon. 

Everything that his parents had once told him about demons suddenly came crashing down onto him. _“If you ever visit Earth, stay away from demons,”_ Wakatoshi’s mother had told him. _“They’ll probably ignore you, too, but they bring nothing but trouble. If all else fails, run.”_

And that’s exactly what he did. Newfound strength surging into his veins, he delivered a blow on the stranger’s face, who screeched and fell backward in pain. This was just enough time for Wakatoshi to hurriedly pull up his pants and take off, sprinting opposite from where the demon appeared from.

But the alcohol was stronger than Wakatoshi, and after only a few yards of sprinting throughout the empty streets, he was overtaken with drowsiness and started stumbling around, tripping over his feet until collapsing on the ground. 

He blacked out.


	2. Tendou

Satori Tendou was banished from Hell. 

It was fine, really. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his job. He loved watching in delight at any murderer, terrorist, or serial killer when they took one glance at Satori and realized they had fucked up. He loved torturing these broken souls and sending them down to the deepest dungeons of the Underworld, knowing they deserved it. 

But he utterly loathed Earth. 

He hated paying taxes. He hated having to stay in a run-down apartment. He hated how he was forced to work at a local fast food restaurant for money. He hated how he had to constantly hide his wings and do his best to cover up his very devilish appearance with multiple layers of clothing. He hated how innocent strangers always stared at him like he was some kind of monster, and how he knew he couldn’t just rip their faces off when they hadn’t done anything wrong. Satori used to scare and threaten people to hand over their money and houses for him to live in conveniently when he first was banished to Earth, but he realized having to explain this to the police was too much of a hassle, so he had begrudgingly accepted his fate to pretending to be a normal, civilized human being. 

It didn’t make it any better that Satori kept on reminiscing the reason why he was exiled. 

He shuddered at the thought and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Tonight, Satori had already drowned down four glasses of wine in one seating, and he wasn’t even the least bit fazed. He had wanted to escape these persistent thoughts hunting after him, but no matter how much he drank, how much he ran, how much he tried fighting back, they kept on coming back stronger and fiercer than before. 

“Another glass, ma’am.” Satori yawned as he pushed his glass towards the female bartender fixing some bottles at the back. He pouted and slouched over to his left, leaning against his propped arm. This was getting annoying. A few humans had told him that drinking could result in loss of memory and put someone in a giddy, drunken stupor. Why, then, couldn’t Satori get drunk? Was he immune because he was a demon? 

The bartender nodded as she came over with a bottle of red wine in her hands. She was observing him, probably questioning the amount of wine he was consuming. Satori ignored her eyes as he clumsily gripped his glass and chugged everything down in just a few seconds. He clunked the glass down, scowling. 

Satori still felt exactly the same. Completely conscious and hyper-aware of the piercingly-loud country music playing over the speakers and the constant buzz of chatter around him. Not that he hated the taste of wine, however. The flavor of hints of exquisite blackberries and the tangy licorice danced quite nicely on his taste buds. But he wasn’t here to simply enjoy the taste of alcohol.

Right when he was about to ask for another glass, his nose picked up on something that stood out from everything else in the room.

Satori turned around to catch a glimpse of a new customer, a male, sliding into a seat at the opposite end of the bar. Even though the new person was so far away from his seat, Satori could still recognize the distinct sickeningly sweet smell the person emitted immediately. 

An angel.

“What is an angel doing here?” he thought out loud, raising his eyebrows. Satori himself had barely ever encountered angels, but he knew best to steer away from them. Angels and demons weren’t exactly sworn enemies, per se, but they were always notoriously known to not be able to get along well together. Still, he knew that most angels were pure and innocent, so it didn’t make sense for one to be drinking at a place like this. 

Satori studied the male angel. Through the midst of the shuffling of people, he could see that the angel was probably around the age of Satori himself. He had hard, careful eyes and broad, muscular shoulders to match. His brown hair and dark-olive highlights played nicely with his carefully chiseled face. He was quite handsome, Satori admitted, before swallowing the thought down. 

Another man clambered into the chair next to the angel. Satori blinked. He hadn’t noticed the other man before. It wasn’t another angel, he could tell. Maybe just a human friend? 

He sighed and turned back to his countertop, asking for another glass of wine. What was he doing? Other people’s businesses weren’t his. He tried humming a tune to get his mind off of everything as he slowly sipped his drink down. 

Satori was able to clear mind from troubled thoughts for a few, relaxing minutes by commenting internally how the alcohol tickled his throat. He was giggling to himself until a subtle cry from behind him startled him.

He turned around again to see the angel being dragged roughly by the other man, heading towards the doors. “Wait-” the angel stammered, trying to break out of the stronger man’s death grip. But the other man paid no attention and hauled the angel out of the bar. 

Satori squinted at the doors that swung shut with a loud _hiss_. The atmosphere of the bar stayed exactly the same, like nobody had noticed the struggle playing out. Even if some people did, they probably ignored it, like it was something normal to witness. 

But was it really normal? 

Satori leaned his head against his propped arm again and thought. It wasn’t his business. Really. He was a demon, after all. But something stirred inside him, a past recollection. There was something in the other man’s eyes that disturbed him. And the way he had pulled the angel away against his will… 

Satori stood up and brushed his disheveled denim jacket down. He slid the necessary amount of bills over the counter. “Thanks,” he said to the bartender, who nodded, and he promptly left the bar. 

It was a chilly night, and he shivered, scanning everything outside. There were lush trees that hung low surrounding the parking lot and dim street lights flickered softly, casting temporary shadows on the ground. 

Then he heard it.

A growl so frenzied, so tormented, so deep like a hunted lion being slaughtered resonated throughout the air. Satori snapped his head toward the sound. 

There.

Hidden behind the gracefully flowing branches of the weeping willows settled right next to the bar. There was nothing graceful in his steps as he darted across the parking lot and tore through the leaves, screaming, “Hey!”

The angel was crushed against the wall by one of the man’s hands, his eyes wide open. His pants were torn down and the tip of his cock was being devoured by the man.

Satori’s heart beat faster in fury at the sight. All he could see was a child, tiny and shriveled, screaming his lungs out in pain in place of the angel. His vision burned red. “What the fuck are you doing, you fucking bastard?” 

The man turned his head toward the yell, which gave the angel enough time to knock the man backwards and run away, but all Satori could remember was pulling out his dagger from his concealed sheath. The man’s eyes grew bigger at the knife that glimmered underneath the streetlights. He tried running away, but Satori was stronger. He forced the man down with a hand and sunk his weapon into the man’s chest. The man shrieked in agony. Dark red blood gushed out and stained Satori’s hands, but he ignored it. “Don’t ever touch him again,” he said in a dangerously level tone, stabbing the man with every syllable, even if he had already gone limp on the first stab.

The sound of sirens in the distance snapped Satori back to reality, and he cursed at the dead body lying in a pool of blood. He could already see the man’s spirit rise from his body, but he grabbed it before it could escape. “I’ll make sure you get the worst punishment from the depths of Hell,” he whispered to the horror of the man’s spirit. He gave him a maniacal grin and then slammed him into the ground, sending him straight to the Underworld. 

Sirens grew louder in the background. Satori growled to himself. He had been acting too much on impulse and forgot to wear gloves. There was no way to completely erase his prints from the scene, but he could still slow the police down. He gritted his teeth and knelt down again to hoist the man over his shoulder. 

The police were probably only a few yards away when Satori sprinted into the shadows, and after a few seconds of running, he found himself stopping in front of the gates of the closed dock at the nearby lake. It was past midnight, and the murky dark clouds shrouded almost all light that could be casted from the moon. In this part of the city, there were a few streetlights scattered here and there, but no one should be able to see him now. Still, he had always chastised himself for expecting things to go exactly the way he expected them to. 

Satori’s beady eyes scoured the area for any form hiding in the veils of the night’s protection. 

Wait. 

Next to a few bushes encroaching the gates laid a figure sprawled unconscious on the ground. Satori might have missed it if not for the cloying smell drifting into his nostrils. He narrowed his eyes. Hadn’t the angel run away? Had the alcohol overtaken him, then? Satori briefly remembered a time when someone had told him that angels couldn’t handle alcohol. Something churned in Satori’s stomach, but he quickly ignored it. What was he doing? He had successfully killed a sinner worthy of Hell. That was all. The angel was safe. He didn’t need to worry about him anymore.

Satori turned back towards the lake. The police would be here any moment now. 

He grunted because of the weight of the body as he took off his jacket and spread his demonic wings. The lake where he lived was massive. If he disposed of the body in the deepest part of the lake, it would take the police months, years even, to find it. Perhaps they would never find it. He hoped for the latter. The man he killed did not deserve a proper burial. 

After Satori flew into the sky and dumped the body into the lake, he swept the territory again to make sure he wasn’t seen. Again, the collapsed body of the angel stood out to him. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance. The police were probably marking the crime scene back at the bar. They hadn’t found the angel yet. He found himself sighing in relief.

Satori’s mouth curved down into a scowl as he subconsciously landed swiftly on the ground a few meters in front of the fallen angel. This wasn’t his business. The angel’s safety wasn’t his business. 

Something caught his eye. The angel was bleeding, he realized. His eyes were naturally accustomed to the dark because of his days in the Underworld, and he could see even clearer because of the short distance the unmistakable trail of dark blood seeping out of the angel’s knuckles and lips. The angel looked like a mess, with a torn plain t-shirt that barely covered his muscular chest and bruises that were littered all over his body. Satori sucked in a breath. The image of a boy drenched in tears lying on the ground, convulsing in pain flashed over his mind again.

No.

Not again.

He closed the distance between them and scooped the limp angel from the ground, trying his best not to wrinkle his nose from the nauseatingly sweet smell the angel gave off. Satori stumbled a little from the surprised weight, but he took off into the sky again. 

Satori was going to take an angel into his apartment. A male angel. 

He already knew what was going to happen, and it scared him. 

But his life was already messed up to begin with. 

It didn’t really matter what happened now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tendou my poor baby :((


End file.
